


this has moved past love to mania

by crookedspoon



Series: nothing more than any artists dreams [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Gangbang, Genderqueer Character, Kinktober 2017, M/M, POV Prokopenko, POV Second Person, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 02:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: You've discussed the possibility of this, but you didn't actually think he'd get over his possessiveness enough to allow for this to happen.Prequel to "maybe this is danger and you just don't know."





	this has moved past love to mania

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galateaofthewestside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galateaofthewestside/gifts).



> For Day 21 "Double Penetration" at Kinktober 2017 and "Fingertips" at Inktober for writers.
> 
> Me: Yes, I've had this idea for months now, but I don't think I can write this today, so I'm going to write something else.  
> Also me: *takes notes on other idea, then writes this one anyway*

It happens in flashes of lucidity. You should probably have stayed marginally sober for this, but _this_ is dangerous territory and you don't know the guys to be especially tactful, so you think you're right to be worried.

Kavinsky might think you're hot shit in a dress, but who's to say the others would agree? It shouldn't matter; the only thing that should matter is that you're comfortable dressed up like this and – and what?

This whole thing was K's idea. He was eager for it to happen, as if you were some arm candy to show off. You're flattered about that, a bit (a lot), but this isn't as easy for you as it is for him. You are the one who'll have to live with the knowledge that your crew has seen you in such a way.

Worse, that they're aware you chose this. It wasn't like you lost a bet or that Kavinsky forced you into a dress. No, it's all you. And it's important to you, that's why it's so frightening. You want to be able to live that part of yourself freely, without fear of repercussions, and K convinced you that you could do just that in your small circle of friends if you let the guys in on your secret. He'd be there with you every step of the way, defending you if need be.

You were too anxious to speak the first time you met these guys but after a while you relaxed around them, managed to grow quite a mouth on you. Well, you always _had_ that mouth, but it was easier to keep it shut than face whatever would be thrown back at you. You're not quick on your feet when your nerves are fried.

You're having a flashback to that first meeting, but it should be different now. You've come to know them, come to feel mostly okay around them so that you don't have to monitor everything you say or do. Alcohol helps, has always helped, because it provides you with an excuse to be more of who you are and you hate yourself that you're not strong enough to be that on your own, but Kavinsky calls it a crutch. It's there to help you find your way into who you want to be until you're ready to inhabit that person all by yourself.

Trouble is, that's the ideal version, but you sometimes overdo it. It's just so much easier to vanish into that sweet oblivion alcohol offers. You don't like being conscious in your own head. It's a scary place.

Kavinsky whistles appreciatively when he enters the bathroom and spots your reflection in the mirror. Your heart melts in gratitude, but you don't let it show.

"You ready, babe?" he asks and places his hands on shoulders, gives them a squeeze. "Fuck, you're so tense." The grin that announces his thoughts before he says them is automatic. He leans down to murmur into your ear. "I'm gonna work you over so hard before the end of the night, you'll be nothing more than a puddle of goo."

His words already turn your insides to mush even if your muscles will really need that working over. And you believe that he'll deliver. He's nothing if not creative. "I'm counting on you."

K snorts. Then he tilts back your head for a kiss but you place your fingertips on his mouth to stop him.

"Don't ruin my lipstick. I spent far too much time on it for you to fuck it all up now." In fact, you've been nervously reapplying it every time you took a sip from your drink. You've been using a straw to not mess it up too much, but it soothed you to add another coat.

"Already such a diva." K grins. It's a proud grin and it makes you feel so weird. He never pays that much attention to you unless you he wants to play, so it's not a stretch for you to feel like a Barbie doll he's having fun with now, even though he's not the one dressing you up or directing your movements. You still have that much agency.

"K," you protest. "I'm not used to this. I don't know how to do makeup so it doesn't smudge."

"Whatever," he winds his arms around you and snaps his teeth into your neck. A helpless squeak escapes your throat. You kind of want to stay like this forever, with him so close to you, even if his tight embrace is cordoning off your breath and his bite is bordering on painful.

It doesn't matter as long as he's with you. Stupid. You're such a sucker for pain if K is the one dishing it out.

When you get up and turn to him, you notice he is wearing makeup too, probably courtesy of Skov, although his is more natural. It's supposed to hide the bruise-like circles underneath his eyes, and highlight his amazing cheekbones. You're so weak for the cut of them and are quietly ashamed that you're glad he doesn't eat that much even when you're forcing him to do the same. Not that a pound or three more on his ribs would hurt them.

He looks so much younger like this and you imagine a world in which you could have been normal teenagers with normal lives turning into normal college students who don't have to turn to various substances to keep themselves going.

You're not sure such a world exists.

He takes your hand with a knowing smile and kisses your knuckles, almost like a gentleman. Although that comparison is so ludicrous it cracks you up.

"You're gonna be great," he says and with the lovestruck way he's looking at you, you're tempted to believe him.

(You've always thought Kavinsky wasn't capable of love, even if he could fake it well enough, but when his eyes drink you in like that, you're willing to reassess your preconceived notions. Again, stupid.)

You take a deep and step into the studio.

* * *

It starts as a normal photoshoot, with you as the unattainable model reclining against the back of the sofa. It turns out to be fun posing like you're something anyone could want. 

Like you're a goddess.

And K is playing along, kissing your cute little white boots and your candy-cane striped stockings. You get to bestow your attention on him, not the other way around, and that makes you feel so powerful, to have him kneeling at your feet and practically begging for a favor.

Sure, it's all part of the shoot, but you're willing to believe in it anyway, because you're tipsy and it's erasing the doubts.

It helped that Jiang nearly dropped his camera when he first saw you, and not out of disgust, but because he really likes this new look on you. Or so you tell yourself.

Yes, you do like this new look on yourself and it's boosting your confidence, but already you're forgetting all about how brave you are for letting the others see you like this, when Kavinsky kisses you in front of them.

It's not exactly a new thing, they know you're his bitch, that you gladly assume this role, but this is different. This is Kavinsky kissing you like he's being given a boon, like he's a supplicant and you're the boss bitch now.

This isn't even him _letting_ you be in control, it's him assuming that position because it feels right, because he wants to roll over and feel your heels on him. It's exhilarating to say the least.

It's also strange he'd do that before an audience, and with equipment recording it for posterity besides.

It's like he's giving you this in return for your vulnerability, a proof that he too is taking a chance. Fuck him. Fuck him so much. You didn't think you could love him any more than you already do, but then he pulls something like this and suddenly you're aware of new depths to your feelings for him.

The worst of it is that you know he can't reciprocate them in the same way. Even if he loves you as he's pretending to right now, because this is fun to him, because it's a way to pass the time, he's just not capable of feeling as deeply as you are. And it's okay. You've come to terms with that. As long as he loves you the way he can and doesn't kick you to the curb the moment he's bored with you, that's okay.

When he finally kisses your mouth, it's more like he's begging one of you, with his head tilted up towards yours, and your hands cupping it gently. You want a print of that, you think.

His arms wind around you again when you do kiss him back and his embrace turns rather possessive. He can't help it. Nor can you, because you love being possessed by him.

Your eyes flicker over to Skov elbowing Jiang for gagging and to Swan looking on with an amused smile playing about his lips.

"I wanna suck you off so bad right now," you say when you pull back, and your lipstick looks so good on K you can't help but kiss him again to leave more of it on his mouth.

"What's stopping you?" he says with an infernal grin that's as red as sin, as his hand is stealing up your thigh beneath your skirt.

It's the first time you're doing this in front of a camera, or at least one that is so obviously pointed at your face. You're aware of the shutter clicking when you wrestle open his fly and you relish the warm moan he puffs across your face when you touch his junk.

He's hard already and you admire that he has no shame, that he lets you touch him where his friends can see.

There are wolf whistles when you move down to take him into your mouth. You ignore them. You ignore everything but the feel of him on your tongue and his fingers in your hair. Taking in his length, you look up at him, needing reassurance that this is okay, and he nods and grins and looks back as though he couldn't love you more.

He probably can't. He'd love anyone who'd go down on him like this, who doesn't have a sense of self-preservation. You never take long to work him as deeply into your mouth as you can, nose pressed against his skin and tongue able to lick his balls if you were able to control it more in this situation. You're working on it.

Fact is, you work him to the brink and yourself with it. You don't need to touch yourself for that. The sounds K makes are enough to get you there.

He holds your face still as he slips out your mouth and drags his spit-slick length across it. 

He hauls you up to kiss you and you cling to him, weak-kneed, as he wrings your first orgasm out of you.

"Anyone else wanna use that pretty mouth?" he asks through a groan, letting you drop to your elbows on the sofa as though you're a tissue he's just discarded, and a shiver slices down your spine.

You've discussed the possibility of this, but you didn't actually think he'd get over his possessiveness enough to allow for this to happen.

"Dibs." 

Skov is the first to approach. He throws the bottle he's been nursing to Swan and once K has moved over, he kisses you as though you hadn't just been blowing K. It makes you wonder, but he's probably no stranger to K's taste.

He strokes your hair as he kneels on the couch, bringing his hips level with your face. Fuck, you can't believe this is happening. You may have privately gotten off to the idea of K letting the others use you, but you never thought this would ever become reality. Surely the guys couldn't be as depraved as K and you. But perhaps you underestimated them. K seems to have a knack of surrounding himself with like-minded people, after all.

"That looked impressive," Skov tells you as he's undoing the button of his stylishly distressed jeans. You can see the lines of ink through the holes in it. "Show me what you can do, sweetheart."

That endearment twinges inside you in the best and worst way. You haven't told them anything yet and you don't think Kavinsky would have sprung it on them without your permission either. So perhaps it's nothing, perhaps it's just the dress that prompts it. 

Not that you're thinking too much about it with his dick jutting out at you. It's a pretty thing, just as Skov is the prettiest among you, a fact you may have envied him for a little. You've always been aware that if K wanted, he could have just gone with Skov instead of you and Skov would probably have willingly joined him. Probably already happened.

The only thing that speaks for you is that you're loyal, that you're a doormat, that you let K do everything he wants to, even if it means whoring you out to his friends. _Fuck._ You're not sure how much Skov would enjoy the part where he cleans up after K, but he'd probably enjoy the whoring out part.

That's something you have in common.

Just as you lick his erection root to tip, Kavinsky hoists up your skirt and pulls down your panties. Oh God, he's really going to fuck you in front of them, is he?

You whimper against Skov's dick.

But instead of his slick digits, you feel something much hotter teasing your twitching hole. Holy fuck. Is he—? You cleaned yourself in anticipation of this, just in case, but you wouldn't have expected K to eat your ass in front of anyone.

You swallow Skov down so no one has to hear the embarrassing cries you'd make otherwise. You can't help moaning around him though when you hear the crinkle of a condom foil even as K's tongue is still pushing inside you.

God, you don't think you're ready for him yet, never mind that you did prepare yourself earlier, knowing that even if this wouldn't turn into an orgy, K would still want to fuck your brains out once the others were gone and you two were alone again.

Though apparently he doesn't want to wait that long.

He does give you his fingers first, two, then three, not waiting for you to get used to them, just checking if you can take them already. Which you can, so the next thing he shoves inside you is his dick, and god, yes, he feels so good you almost forget you have another dick in your mouth until that one is moving again.

Skov is sliding in and out with shallow thrusts just as K is pushing slowly forward, testing out how far you'll take him right off the bat. He only stops when he's all the way in, and you dare breathe again after that, as the burning stops when he does. He's still a hot pulsating presence inside you, but you actually like that. You like to imagine he's curled over your back, fingers holding on to your hips, overwhelmed by the feeling that is you.

You take Skov all the way in as well and he sucks in a sharp breath as you do. Fuck, what a fucking feeling, having two dicks shoved inside you from both ends as far as they would go.

You've always known you'd be a whore for this, even though you preferred not to think about it too much.

Both K and Skov pull back at the same time, as though they've been coordinating that. They might have been. You don't have eyes at the back of your skull and even if you had, they'd have probably been shut tight or have rolled back into your head from this sensation of _too much._

Your own dick is showing interest again, no longer swinging limply between your thighs.

Skov pulls you back as Swan approaches so that your lips are wrapped around the head of his prick. Fuck, you totally forgot there are other people watching you. But that thought is shoved aside as you watch them make out and Swan grabs a handful of your hair to guide you down Skov's length again.

"Stop that," Skov breathes as he pulls out of you. He sounds both annoyed and amused, and a little sensitive to the touch.

Kavinsky's thrusts meanwhile are measured and controlled, as if he's more interested in watching the others than in getting off himself. Perhaps it's the same thing.

"Come inside me," you grunt and you wonder if that's because you're sick of them shifting their focus elsewhere. You've always suspected your tendency towards subservience is fundamentally selfish, but occasionally you still feel weird demanding things of K.

Not that this is a request he'd deny. It pains you when he pulls out too, although you know K needs to coax himself there, it's easier for him.

It makes you feel empty and cold, though, so you rub your lips up Skov's erection again, ignoring the pull of Swan's fingers in your hair.

"Fuck, man, I'm gonna come," he says and his hips twitch.

"If you're so hungry for dick," Swan says, "you can have mine. Give little Adrian here a break. I'm sure you want him to take K's place soon."

You moan and lick your lips as you release Skov. Swan helps you free his package, and oh shit, what a package that is. You waste no time in slicking it up with your tongue because you want to know if you can cram it into your mouth at all.

Just as you wrap your lips around the head of it, Kavinsky shoves his dick back inside you as far as it would go. You're not sure if it's an intentional reminder of his presence, but knowing him, it might as well be. He might let the others play around with you, but none of you ought to forget who's boss.

He fills your insides with his hot come as if staking a claim. As if he still needed to. You wouldn't ever forget who you belong to, even with such an incredible piece of meat between your teeth.

You whimper when K withdraws again, and then a slap to your ass makes you jerk.

"All right, sweetcheeks," Skov says and you blush. You're kind of amazed you can still blush even after everything that's happened today. You're already feeling like you're inside a furnace, but Skov lining himself up at your ass makes you feel like you're about to explode.

And then he sinks into you and your skin is singing with need.

You beg Swan for a taste of whatever he's drinking because you need to top up, because this is getting to overwhelming for you to handle and you need something to dull the edge. You take a gulp, but that shit is too strong for you and your body tenses with the force of a grimace. Skov's thrusts into you feel that much more acute then, as your body shifts the angle it receives him with.

Skov nearly lifts your knees off the sofa as he's driving into you then, and distantly you think you hear Kavinsky snicker. Your moans are stoppered by Swan's huge cock, which you're trying to take in as deeply as you can. You have to realize, however, that there's no way it can fit into your throat.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Skov touches your dick and you notice then how neglected it has been. His fingers working your length feel just as good as his dick. You spill yourself onto your skirt just a moment before he comes inside you. It's a glorious feeling.

"Jiang, you're up," Kavinsky calls as Swan leaves your mouth.

"Pass," comes the answer and somehow your insides still manage to curdle with shame even after everything you've been through already, after everything Jiang has witnessed. And recorded.

"Fucking voyeur," Kavinsky sneers, "I give you the chance at some playtime with my darling girl and you insult her by not taking us up on the offer?"

"Fuck you, man. I came here to take some goddamn pictures, not to be bullied into—"

His words die in his mouth at the same time a sudden cry is born in yours.

Fuck fuck fuck, this must be Swan forcing his way inside you. God, he's so big you nearly lose control of your limbs. You just want to melt into a puddle and take it.

"Yeah, that's it, Alex," Swan groans. "You're so good at taking it, you can handle this, too."

You didn't really believe in it yourself, but you're loathe to disappoint him now.

"Such a good girl," Kavinsky says and his words make you feel all warm and gooey inside. He's already rubbing his recently revived erection into your face and pushes you down to lick his balls. "God, I love that dirty little mouth of yours. Always ready to please."

That's you. There's almost nothing you like better than getting him off. Well, perhaps just lying quietly and peacefully in his arms, but you're not thinking about that now. You're thinking about that wild stretch in your ass and remind yourself not to forget about sucking K off, because you're quite distracted now and this has become a challenge.

Shit, Swan is fucking you so raw, you're not going to be able to stand up straight for the rest of the week.

K does you a favor by pulling you up by your hair. Kissing him takes a little less concentration than blowing him, and with Swan taking up all your brainspace, you have none left to focus on moving your mouth.

You barely notice K's tongue in your mouth. All you notice is your own frantic breath pushing itself out of your lungs as Swan continues pushing into you. His hands are scorching on your hips, but not quite as scorching as his release inside you.

A desperate sound makes its way out of your mouth without your conscious say-so, but so much of what's happened hasn't had any need of your say-so, so where's the difference?

Kavinsky lets you slump onto your face, with your ass in the air. You hear him snap his fingers and you imagine him wiggling his fingers at Jiang, because there's a put-upon sigh moments before you feels another set of fingertips trace your ass and pull your cheeks apart.

Oh God, you think, is this really happening again? You have no more energy to take Jiang, even if your dick is still hanging heavy and hard between your thighs. You've come twice already and you don't think you could stand a third time. It's all too much. You're too hot and you need to get undressed completely, but you're too fucked out to move, and your skin is tingling like there's a swarm of bees beneath it and every brush against it only makes it worse.

You think you let out a sob when Jiang sinks into you, but you have no time to feel sorry for yourself, because Kavinsky uses his chance to abuse your mouth again. You're almost certain you can feel tears streaming down your cheeks, and absurdly you worry about ruining your makeup now, even though it has probably been beyond salvaging for quite some time.

You slip in and out of consciousness, occasionally asking for another drink to facilitate this. It's not like you hate it, you don't, but it's too much and you can only save yourself into the wooziness that drink does offer. You're going to be so hungover tomorrow, but it's probably still better than having to remember what you let your friends do to you.

Shit. This may have been K's idea, but it's not like you dissuaded him from that. No, you actually wanted this too. You wanted all four of them to give you everything they've got, and now that they're doing it, you'd rather flee into unconsciousness.

Learn to decide, asshole, you think to yourself, even as you feel yourself pass out.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Fist" by Derek Walcott.


End file.
